


Errand Boy

by gorey



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Comfort Sex, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorey/pseuds/gorey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wanna be my little spy? There could be something in it for you."  (Deimos/Abel)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Errand Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ back in October. I still feel like this is the best thing I've written for SF. But... that could be because Deimos and Abel are my otp. I sort of think a follow up chapter could be fun for this one...?

"I  _know_  they're fucking," Cain's words beat themselves out between sharp intakes of breath as he hung his head, palms resting above his knees. He was covered in sweat, and Deimos watched it trickle down the back of his neck to where it met sticky dark hair.  "Probably right now, too, damn it."  
  
Deimos ran his tongue over his lips as Cain moved to stand straight and stretch. He always looked so lovely after an intense work out, and now that their fights had been called off, Cain had gone back to using fight simulators. He'd seemed to stop caring that Deimos would come to watch; in fact, he'd become rather cocky about having an audience.  
  
"If Keeler thinks he can get away with fucking my girlfriend just because he's head navigator..." Cain trailed off, paused mid-stretch, seeming to think of something. "Hey, you're quiet, and a sneak," he said, turning back to Deimos now. "You wanna do me a favour, myshonok?"  
  
Deimos tilted his head to the side, curious.  
  
Cain came closer to the smaller fighter, that smirk already forming. "Wanna be my little spy? There could be something in it for you."  
  
When he was close like this, the look on his face not unlike a wolf, Deimos felt chills for two reasons: Fear, and arousal. He tried hard to keep it off his face, even when Cain was close enough to kiss, the scent of him everywhere as he leaned down.  
  
"Abel won't recognise you even if he does see you," Cain murmured. He raised his hand, brushed his thumb over Deimos' mouth, making him shiver. "Go see if Keeler's fucking him and I'll give you something nice, yeah?"  
  
A pause, and then the smaller fighter nodded his consent.  
  
Cain grinned and smacked his cheek lightly. "Good boy."  
  
  
  
Not ten seconds after the doors had closed, Deimos felt awful.  
  
Why was it that he did anything Cain wanted? When had he become such a pet, ready to beg and pant over the promise of a treat that would likely never actually come? He was always jumping, lapping at the air while Cain held this magnificent, visible power over Deimos - too high to reach, too irresistible to ignore.  
  
He knew it was pathetic, knew that turning into a mess of desire and consent around Cain was probably one of the stupidest things he could do. And yet here he was, being Cain's little errand boy.  
  
Still, Deimos followed the directions Cain had given him to the room where Abel spent most of his time with Keeler, up to where the navigators did their configurations. Deimos waited until no one was around the lift to take it up, getting lucky when the doors slid open and no one was waiting outside of it; it was kind of late, after all.  
  
Deimos went soundlessly down the hall, stopping at the very last entryway and slipping inside. It was dark inside, lit mostly by a glow coming from what was almost like a den further below; above it, along the wall, was a walkway with railing, a couple of sets of stairs leading inside. He crept along far enough from the sides that if someone were to look up, he wouldn't be seen.  When he reached the other side he came closer, and lowered himself onto all fours to peer over the edge near the stairs.  
  
Only one person sat surrounded by computer screens, looking a little supernatural in the greenish glow.  
  
Abel appeared studious, bent toward the screen slightly as he dragged his fingers over it. He zoomed in in a bunch of numbers that meant nothing to the fighter who watched from above.  
  
So, Keeler wasn't in here fucking Abel, as Cain had suspected.   
  
Deimos supposed he could leave now, if he wanted, but this was a rare opportunity. Here he was, alone with the person that had gained so very much of Cain's attentions, was capable of inspiring so much jealousy, and who was, as Cain was known to put it, quite a slut.  
  
It was sort of hard to imagine him, strangely enough, out of that navigator's uniform, doing something other than working with computers.  
  
Curiousity got the better of him, after a few minutes. Sure, he could just leave. But why not get to know this person who Cain seemed to find so very worth his time?  
  
All right, so maybe envy on his own part had something to do with wanting to meet Abel, too. Deimos wasn't going to lie to himself about that.  
  
He got up and made his way down the stairs. Abel didn't notice, too focused.  
  
Deimos' voice was strange - he spoke in hushed tones, slightly raspy and hard to hear if you weren't focusing.  
  
"Hello, Abel."  
  
The navigator jumped, turning quickly in his chair. He wasn't sure of whether or not he should be on his guard - this was a fighter he didn't know, someone he'd never seen but who knew his name.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked, carefully. (And why was it that people seemed to enjoy sneaking up on him?)  
  
"Deimos," he came closer, movements silent, and Abel thought there was a strange sort of grace about him. His pale eyes searched the navigator's in a way that was almost invasive.  
  
He found that Abel really was pleasant to look at, even if he did usually prefer dark hair and dark eyes. Deimos' eyes fell to the scar on his mouth and he felt something strange, then; a pang of familiarity.  
  
A lot of things made he and Abel different, certainly. But one thing made them alike: Cain. His ownership, his old over anyone who looked his way. Abel might even know that better than Deimos, in some ways.  
  
"...well," Abel cleared his throat after a moment, glancing at the screen again. "Unless you're here for a reason, Deimos, I suppose I should get back to - "  
  
With a determined sort of look suddenly coming over his face, the fighter came forward and leaned down, placing his hands on the arm rests of Abel's chair. He leaned in, smiling when Abel's eyes grew wide.  
  
"Uh - did you need something - " again Abel was cut off, but this time by a kiss. He was almost surprised when it wasn't rough at all, once he got over the initial shock of it happening in the first place. Deimos' mouth was soft, just a brush against his own that only lasted a few seconds.  
  
Abel blinked when the fighter pulled back, looking utterly perplexed.  
  
"I can see what Cain sees in you," Deimos murmured, eyes traveling down Abel's body.  
  
"Cain?" Abel said, sharply, seeming to totally forget the kiss now, even missing the almost-compliment. "Did he send you here?"  
  
Deimos nodded.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"To see if you were... busy," Deimos couldn't resist smiling at that.  
  
"Explain, please," Abel's eyes narrowed.  
  
"He thinks you're letting Keeler fuck you," he elaborated, simply.  
  
The navigator's mouth opened in shock, and he stammered, "He - he - sent - but -"  
  
Deimos waited for the transgression from surprise to anger. It didn't take long.  
  
"That bastard, thinking he can just send someone to  _check up on me_ , who does he think he is?!" Abel was fuming, hands forming small fists, knuckles white.  
  
 _Your owner,_ Deimos thought.  _Yours, and mine._  
  
At thought he came forward again, giving Abel another kiss, much less gentle this time. He felt Abel's hands on his chest to push him away now, and grabbed his wrists to prevent it. He licked along the seam of the navigator's mouth, wanting entrance, making a sound that was something close to desperate. Maybe it was that he was still aroused by Cain's display and promise, maybe he was too overcome with the realization that Abel might be similar to himself. Maybe he was crazy.  
  
It was Deimos' turn to be surprised when Abel opened his mouth to let the fighter's tongue slide inside, the hands on his chest gripping now rather than pushing. Cain was right, Abel really was sort of easy.  
  
Their kiss became rough fast, and Deimos broke it only to kiss along Abel's jaw. He slowly undid the navigator's coat, slid it off his shoulders to let it gather further down Abel's arms.  
  
Abel smelled good, Deimos noted, as he buried his face in the junction of the navigator's neck and shoulder, giving the skin there a sharp nip before kissing it. Abel jerked and cried out, his mouth soon covered by the lithe fighter's hand.  
  
Deimos brought a finger to his lips, a sly smile there. "Shh."  
  
"Mm, I can't," Abel said, words muffled against Deimos' palm.  
  
The fighter seemed consider before removing his hand, instead using it to take Abel's - who just barely had enough time to close up his uniform - and pull him along quickly through the corridors leading deeper down into the Sleipnir. Abel's breathing was quick as they went and so was his heartbeat, his eyes on the gloved fingers that had laced themselves with his own.  
  
  
  
  
They ended up going to a part of the sleeping quarters that Abel hadn't been to before, on the opposite side of where he and Cain shared a room.  
  
He had just enough time to glance around when they entered, noted that both beds were pulled out of the wall and the sheets upon them were in disarray. Odds were Deimos and his navigator weren't on the same terms as himself and Cain.  
  
When the door slid closed, Deimos pushed Abel down onto the lower bunk. He crawled on top of him, catlike, pushing his coat open again and licking down his chest.  
  
Abel exhaled slowly as Deimos undid his zip and pulled it down, tantalizingly slow over him, already half hard.  
  
"So wet," Deimos whispered against Abel's ear as he spread the precum that already beaded at the tip of Abel's cock.  
The navigator gave an almost violent shiver, whimpering. Deimos dipped his head to lap at it, glancing upward to watch Abel slowly drag his teeth over his lip. He exhaled, warm breath teasing.  
  
"Come up here," Abel gasped, and Deimos obeyed, crawling up again. The navigator pulled him into a kiss, open-mouthed and rough.  
  
Deimos hooked his hands under Abel's knees, and brought them around himself before grinding down.  
  
"Ah!" Abel broke their kiss to turn his head, inhaling sharply. Deimos nibbled along his neck sweetly.  
  
"You want me inside you, Abel?" he asked, drawing back to watch the navigator give a slow, deliberate nod.  
  
"Please," he pulled Deimos closer, pushed up against him as he reached around and undid the zipper on the fighter's suit, helping him slide out of it.  
  
Abel kicked his pants off the rest of the way before Deimos moved to lay beside him. He pulled Abel up against his chest, both of them on their sides; the navigator seemed a little puzzled, at first, but seemed to understand what Deimos had in mind when a hand slid down to pull one of his legs up. It rested on Deimos to stay put as he began to guide himself inside of Abel.  
  
The navigator hissed through his teeth, before moaning low, and Deimos licked along the nape of his neck, tasting sweat.  
When he started to rock his hips, he was greeted with the most delightful, encouraging sounds.  
  
"Ah!  _Ah!_  Hn!"  
  
Deimos purred in response to the navigator's cries, and his movements sped up. He forced Abel to turn his head, drawing his face closer to kiss him deeply, holding it there until they had to part for air. Abel shivered at the sensation of hot breath on his neck.  
  
This felt too good. It had nothing to do with Cain, nothing to do with his gaze, his touch, his filthy mouth or gorgeous body. This was just them.  
  
Deimos was shocked by how  _okay_ he was with that.  
  
"Ooh, I'm gonna come," Abel moaned, panting, rocking, reaching back to slide his fingers into Deimos' hair, gripping tightly.  
  
"Wait for me, sweet," Deimos murmured against his skin, but he wasn't far behind after all. His pushes became deeper, harder, hand sliding around to pull Abel's leg up higher.  
  
"F-fuck -!" Abel gasped, coming, his hand in the fighter's hair tightening so much it hurt. Deimos did too, at that, giving a short little cry that was probably the loudest noise he'd made in a while.  
  
Abel's grip relaxed as they caught their breath. Very slowly, Deimos moved, gently rolling the navigator onto his back and laying atop him. He kissed Abel sweetly before pressing their foreheads together, listening as he received a pleased hum.  
  
Let Cain be satisfied that Keeler wasn't fucking Abel, after all; not _tonight,_  anyway, and Deimos could be sure of it.


End file.
